


Restless Spirits

by Enjoloras



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Humour, I never write funny stuff so here you all go, M/M, Modern AU, Poor Combeferre honestly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-21 10:28:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13738920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enjoloras/pseuds/Enjoloras
Summary: “You're fucking with me, right?”“You're not really my type, so no.”“You know what I mean,” Grantaire said, exasperated.Jean Prouvaire stirred their coffee slowly, “No, I'm not fucking with you. I'm totally serious.”“Combeferre?” Grantaire said, as though to clarify.“Combeferre.”“He thinks his apartment is haunted?”-Jehan wants to hold a séance, Combeferre is absolutely NOT spooked, Grantaire wastes his evening and Enjolras should probably clear something up.





	Restless Spirits

“You're fucking with me, right?”

“You're not really my type, so no...”

“You know what I mean,” Grantaire said, exasperated.

Jean Prouvaire stirred their coffee slowly, “No, I'm not fucking with you. I'm totally serious.”

“Combeferre?” Grantaire said, as though to clarify.

“Combeferre.”

“He thinks his apartment is _haunted_?”

Jehan shrugged, “He's open-minded.” they said, “And I think a little bit scared by the possibility. When he told me he looked totally spooked – pun intended.”

Grantaire leant back in his seat, a little lost for words. When Jehan had invited him to go get coffee he'd assumed it was just a friendly lunch date – I mean, that's what you usually expected from friends, right? Not to be lured into whatever weird shenanigans this was.

Sure, he knew Combeferre vaguely entertained the idea of the supernatural (he'd expressed an obscure interest in Cryptozoology and nodded thoughtfully at the idea of extraterrestrial life) but to go as far as completely unironically suggesting that his apartment was haunted?

Life was full of surprises.

“I'm just shocked,” he admitted, “He seemed, I dunno, more logical than that?”

“Well, you know - 'When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.', and all that...” Jehan said, sipping their coffee, “He seems pretty convinced, anyway.”

“And you want to do _what_ about it, exactly?” Grantaire frowned, “See, my head must have done that thing where it converts a perfectly normal sentence into one that's completely batshit, because I can't have heard you right the first time...”

“I told you. I want to hold a séance.”

“Fucking hell. I did hear you right.”

“Obviously.”

“A séance?” Grantaire repeated slowly.

Jehan set down their coffee, now sporting a rather impressive foam moustache that honestly made it even harder to take them seriously.

“Yes.”

“A _séance?_ ” Grantaire said it again, sort of hoping that if he said it a few more times it might suddenly occur to Jehan just how ridiculous it sounded.

“Is there an echo in here?”

“Seriously, Jehan?”

Jehan let out a whine, “Oh, come on, R! I've always wanted the opportunity to do this!”

“That doesn't surprise me even a tiny bit,” Grantaire said, “But why are you telling _me_?”

“Because we need more people there. Just me and Combeferre? What kind of low rate séance is that?” Jehan snorted, “We need at _least_ four people, minimum.”

“Why?” Grantaire was totally lost at this point.

“It just feels aesthetically appropriate.”

“Why don't you ask our dear Fearless Leader?” Grantaire said, looking down into his coffee; even just thinking about Enjolras brought a flush to his cheeks, a flush he'd rather Jehan not see.

“He lives with Combeferre, doesn't he?" said as if he didn't know - ha! "What does he think about all this 'Paranormal Activity' shit?”

Jehan shrugged slightly, “Combeferre thought it best we didn't tell Enjolras about it...” they said, “He doesn't want to frighten him...”

“You mean he doesn't want Enjolras telling him he's being a fucking idiot?”

“Don't be mean.” Jehan scolded, flicking a bit of the froth from their cappuccino at him, “Look, if you're right we'll just sit in a dark room for like an hour and prove ourselves wrong,” they said, “What do you have to lose?”

“Uh, I've seen 'The Shining' thanks, and I have like, literally zero desire to be in the sequel,” Grantaire held up his hands, “I'll own up to being a complete chickenshit right now. I don't believe in this stuff but I'd rather not take the risk because you want to Skype Oscar Wilde's ghost on a Toys 'R' Us ouija board. If that's what you want get your ass to Père Lachaise like a normal Goth, but don't involve me."

“Please!” Jehan whined, reaching across the table to grab his hands, holding him with a vicelike grip as though to stop him escaping, “I already got Joly and Bossuet to agree to it!”

“Then you don't need me! That's four people---wait, how did you get Joly and Bossuet to agree to this?” Grantaire scowled. Joly was more superstitious than Combeferre; the idea that he'd willingly subject himself to living out a scene from the movie 'Poltergeist' was almost inconceivable.

“I told them you were going to be there!”

“Judas!”

“ _Please_?”

Grantaire sighed, tipping his head back with a loud groan, “Oh my god, fine! But I swear to god if something throws a glass at me or Joly gets possessed or something I am out of there _so_ fast and the ghost can murder you all for all I care.”

“Thank you!” Jehan said delightedly, releasing his arm, “Oh, it's going to be great!” they said, leaning across the table to kiss both of Grantaire's cheeks in turn, “I've got candles and music and everything!”

“Candles and music?” Grantaire raised one eyebrow, “Are you trying to make contact with the ghost or seduce it?”

“Don't be ridiculous,” Jehan scoffed, “Though not to say I'd be opposed to the idea of dating a ghost..."

“Of course. Don't rule it out. That's going to be the next Del Toro movie."

 

-

 

There was something remarkably surreal about sitting in Combeferre and Enjolras' living room by candlelight. Sure, he'd been there...rather a lot, recently, but candlelight seemed to have that effect where it could transform even a familiar room into a strange, shadowy unknown. It was almost midnight and here he was sipping a drink on the sofa between Bossuet and Combeferre as Joly paced the room and Jehan finished setting up the table.

Grantaire was still wondering why exactly he'd agreed to be an active participant in this nonsense; he could have been doing so much more with his evening, like hitting a bar with Eponine, or laying in bed watching reruns of Brooklyn Nine-Nine, or, fuck, dying in a gutter somewhere.

At least Combeferre had been decent enough to provide them with a bottle of wine to share for their troubles - but if he really thought _one_ bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon was going to last them the night, he had grossly underestimated his friends.

“You, uh, really believe in this stuff then, huh?” He said to Combeferre, now fidgeting beside him. What was the protocol with making smalltalk before a séance? They were potentially about to delve into the dark workings of the netherworld together, if Jehan was to be believed. That probably required more than a simple 'The weather was nice today, hey?'.

“Well, I mean, I'm open to it,” Combeferre said, sounding just a touch uneasy, “Not to say I believe it, I just, well, I don't _not_ believe it...”

“Uh-huh.”

“And, I mean, if there is something – you know, the other side – then I suppose it's important to try to ascertain the truth. You know, in the name of science.”

“Right.”

“But it's not like anything is going to happen, of course. I'm armed with a healthy dose of scepticism,” Combeferre told him. It might have even been believable if his leg wasn't shaking and his voice wasn't about three octaves higher than usual. Oh, Grantaire was going to have fun with this. Maybe it wasn't going to be a completely wasted evening after all.

“What are you going to ask it?”

“I'm sorry?”

“The ghost.” Grantaire clarified, grinning ear from ear, “What are you going to ask it if we 'make contact' or whathaveyou?”

“Oh, uh,” Combeferre turned very pale, “I suppose I'll just ask it what it wants? And if it would be so kind as to leave us alone?”

“Really? That's it?” Grantaire said, “You're not going to ask about the afterlife? Don't have any pressing questions about the great beyond?”

Combeferre laughed a distinctly nervous laugh, looking over at Jehan, “Are we almost ready?”

“I think so...” Jehan said, standing back to admire their handiwork, “Do you think there's enough crystals on the table?”

“I honestly wouldn't know.”

“Right,” Jehan looked thoughtful for a moment, and then shrugged, “Well, it'll do! Alright then – everyone come sit down.”

Grantaire took his place between Joly and Bossuet, making sure to put his wine within easy reach; he was going to need it. Bossuet, on his left, looked mildly curious about the whole thing, but Joly was completely stiff in his seat.

“Are you okay?” Grantaire asked.

“Sure.” Joly squeaked, “Totally fine.”

“He's scared,” Bossuet explained, as if that wasn't patently obvious from the way he gripped the edge of the table.

“I'm not.” Joly lied.

“He stayed up watching horror movies all last night,” Bossuet said, “Now he's convinced this is going to go the way of 'The Exorcist.'”

“I'm just saying, does anyone actually know how to do this properly?” Joly said, “Or are we just going in blind?”

“Jehan read a Wikihow,” Grantaire supplied, shrugging, “Can't be that hard, right?”

“Oh my god. We're going to die."

“Don't be ridiculous,” Jehan cut in, taking their place at the head of the table, “I have so many books on this it's unreal. I know what I'm doing.”

“In theory,"

“In theory,” Jehan conceded, before stretching out their arms either side of them, “Now shut up and lets do this. I need you all to take each other's hands; close the circle.”

Grantaire sighed, draining his glass in one mouthful and then doing as he was told. Joly's hand was uncomfortably sweaty.

“I need complete silence now, as I try to connect...” Jehan insisted, closing their eyes and starting to hum.

“Is that really necessary?” Grantaire said tiredly.

“Shut up!” Jehan hissed, cracking open one eye, “Just let me do it. It's my process."

“Alright.”

Grantaire had to confess Jehan did manage to look suitably ominous with the candlelight dancing across their face. They certainly had the cheekbones for it, anyway. 

“Is there anybody here with us now?” they called into the dark, “We want to speak with you.”

“Only if that's okay,” Combeferre said quickly, earning himself a loud 'shhhh' from the whole table.

“If the spirit that dwells in this apartment is present, come forward to us now!” Jehan said.

There was absolute silence.

“Please, make contact with us!”

More silence. A few of the candles on the table started to flicker, and a cold chill seemed to sweep unexpectedly into room. Suddenly, Grantaire wasn't finding the whole thing quite so hilarious anymore. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, a completely involuntary reaction. He felt Joly squeeze his hand.

“You're with us now, aren't you?” Jehan whispered, “I can feel your presence.”

“Fuck,” Combeferre muttered, looking like he was starting to regret his whole life for leading up to this point. Grantaire wondered if he was about to nope the fuck out of his own apartment and leave them alone to face the inevitable exorcism that was to follow.

Jehan was breathing heavily now – even they were looking a little uncertain. 

The silence grew heavy. Grantaire felt himself hold his breath.

_Shit._

“If the spirit that dwells in this apartment is present, then please – _show yourself_!”

Suddenly light flooded the room and the whole table scattered with a chorus of terrified screams. Bossuet fell out of his chair. Joly threw himself into Grantaire's lap. Combeferre stood up so quickly he hit his knee against the table, swearing loudly as he did.

“What the _hell_ is going on in here?!”

When Grantaire recognised the angry voice his heart stopped trying to escape through his mouth. He covered his face with his hands.

“Fuck, Enjolras,” he cried, “You just took five years off my life!”

Enjolras was standing in the doorway to the living room, arms crossed, looking absolutely furious. He was wearing a burgundy dressing gown and his hair in a messy bun, and had an eye-mask pulled up on his forehead (it said 'princess' across it in diamanté, and had been a gag present from Courfeyrac that Enjolras had apparently taken to wearing completely unironically)

"I think my heart just shit itself." Bossuet said, clutching his chest. 

“Good!” Enjolras growled, “Because it's half-past midnight and you guys are sitting around our table with god knows how many candles burning!” he turned to Combeferre, “Are you _trying_ to set off the fire alarm and get the whole building evacuated?”

All the colour had now returned to Combeferre's face. Faced with the reality that there probably _wasn't_ a restless spirit inhabiting their cramped apartment, he suddenly looked very, very embarrassed by the whole thing.

“I...no, I mean...sorry?” he stammered, “I mean, we just...uh...”

“We were holding a séance.” Jehan finished for him.

“A séance?” Enjolras said, looking at them like they'd just grown another head, “ _Here?_ ”

“Combeferre says it's haunted.” Joly said, finally crawling off Grantaire's lap.

“ _Our_ apartment?” Enjolras looked at Combeferre again, “It's a student flat. What kind of self-respecting ghost is going to haunt a student flat?”

“It's an old building!” Combeferre argued feebly.

“We made contact,” Jehan said, “You guys all felt the chill in the room, right?” they looked around to the others for backup. 

“Of course you felt a fucking chill in the room!” Enjolras snapped, pointing across the room, “The window is open!”

“...Oh.”

Grantaire laughed, “Well. Sorry we didn't communicate with the other side after all, Jehan,” he said, “Maybe next time, hey?”

Enjolras shook his head, “What on earth gave you the idea that this place was haunted?”

“Combeferre said so,” Jehan said, now visibly crestfallen.

“Yes, I got that much,” Enjolras said, “But what exactly has been happening that has led him to that conclusion?”

“Uh...” Jehan glanced at Combeferre, “Combeferre?”

“You didn't even ask him?” Grantaire said.

“I just took his word for it!” Jehan said, spinning to face him, “I trust him – I didn't need to know the details!”

“You were just looking for a reason to hold a séance,” Bossuet guessed.

“Don't blame me! I'm not the one who said it!” Jehan turned to Combeferre again, “Tell them, 'Ferre!”

“Yes, 'Ferre, tell us,” Enjolras said flatly. What little patience he had looked like it was burning on a short fuse, and Grantaire couldn't exactly say he blamed him.

Combeferre's face went beet red, “Well...things have been going missing and turning up in strange places,” he said.

“ _Really?_ ”

“Really. In the kitchen, mostly – jars and stuff being put in places I know neither of us would have put them...”

“You're dubbing this place the Amityville Horror because someone moved your Nutella?” Bossuet said, eyebrows raised.

“It's strange!” Combeferre said defensively, “Me and Enjolras are very particular about these things!” he threw up his hands in frustration, “Okay, I get it, that's a bit ridiculous – but you must have heard the noises?”

“The noises?” Enjolras arched one eyebrow.

“Noises, in the night.” Combeferre said, sounding a little desperate at this point, “Bumps and bangs, footsteps and voices...?”

Enjolras turned completely white.

At the exact same moment the truth dawned on Grantaire, and he burst into uncontrollable laughter.

“Oh _god_ ,” he said, “Fuck...”

“What?” Combeferre glanced at him, bewildered, and then back at Enjolras, “What's wrong? You _have_ heard them, haven't you?” he guessed, noticing Enjolras' expression.

“In a way...” Enjolras said, his voice now very small and forced.

“What do you mean?”

Grantaire couldn't take it any more. He doubled over, holding onto Joly to stop himself from collapsing. It was awful and absolutely incredibly fucking hilarious.

“Oh fuck, Enjolras, you need to put him out of his misery!” he said, feeling like he might never recover. Jehan, Bossuet and Joly were looking at him with a mixture of confusion and concern; if Grantaire had been able to get his breath he'd have reassured them he was okay.

Enjolras grimaced, “'Ferre...” he started, “Look, don't be angry...”

“Angry?” Combeferre echoed, “Why would I be angry...?”

“I haven't told you something that I probably should have,” Enjolras said, “But before you react, I'd like to remind you that you just tried to hold a séance in our living room, so, maybe think of it as us being even...”

“Even?”

Enjolras cleared his throat awkwardly, “Grantaire and I have been seeing each other for a while.”

Combeferre stared at him, still apparently lost, “Seeing each other?”

“Dating.”

“I fucking knew it!” Joly piped up, punching the air, “Congrats, R!”

Grantaire gave a sheepish smile, still staring at Combeferre.

“Okay,” Combeferre frowned, “That's wonderful, Enjolras. Why would that make me angry? I'm happy for you. I don't understand; what's that got to do with this...?”

Enjolras fidgeted with his dressing gown, “Those noises...”

Grantaire felt incredibly privileged that he got to witness the exact moment Combeferre's brain made the connection; recognition lit up behind his eyes and then his face went so red that briefly Grantaire thought he was about to explode.

“Oh my god,” he said finally, looking absolutely mortified.

“ _Oh_ ,” Jehan caught on too, “Oh, wow...”

“Yeah...” Enjolras looked down at his feet, “Sorry..."

“Holy shit,” Joly turned to Grantaire, eyes wide, “Is that where you've been sneaking off to at night?”

Grantaire held up his hands, “Guilty and proud of it,” he said simply, only just managing to contain his laughter. He stepped over to Combeferre, patting him apologetically on the shoulder, “Sorry, mon ami. It would appear that I'm your ghost.”

“You _will_ be a ghost if you don't stop laughing about this,” Enjolras warned, cheeks still scarlet, “This is so embarrassing...”

“I told you we should have just told him.” Grantaire reasoned.

“Fine. You were right, for once. Now can you all get out of our apartment?” Enjolras said, turning his attention to Jehan, Joly and Bossuet.

Combeferre was still looking horrified by his discovery, “So, some of those sounds...”

“Hey, look on the bright side, Ferre,” Grantaire beamed, “Now you don't have to get a priest in here!”

“Oh, I don't know about that...” Bossuet remarked, snickering, "I'd _definitely_ want to have this place doused with Holy Water after what's probably gone down here..."

“Alright, that's it, everyone out!” Enjolras decided, steering them towards the door, “Jehan you can come by tomorrow to get your candles and your rocks.”

"They're _crystals_."

“Well, that was entertaining after all,” Joly said as he went, probably just relieved that nothing ghostly had actually occurred, “Goodnight!”

Combeferre sighed, glancing at Grantaire, “You might as well stay,” he said, “Since you're so well-acquainted with our apartment, apparently.”

Enjolras flushed, but nodded, and turned to storm back off into his bedroom.

Grantaire was right, then; not a wasted evening after all.

 

 


End file.
